Act 1
Act 1:
The weather outside is oppressively brutal. The air inside is no better.
Everyone is quiet. So fucking quiet you can even hear each movement of the plants. They all hold their breath because the main actor of this shot – the center of all attention right now – is wallowing in their own moment.
Mile stands dumbfounded, watching Apo shed his tears.
It's not the first time Mile sees Apo cry. Over sadness. Over joy. As Porsche. As Apo. Right now, as Khem. Apo's tears fall, soaking his heart, growing spouts of remorse in him.
Mile watches his friend/partner hug himself, the anguish in those eyes is real and raw. Mile can hear a small sob, the thing under his ribcage constricts painfully.
A moment of silence, before Pond exclaims cut, "Very good, Po. Let's wrap up for the day." The atmosphere slackens immediately. Others applaud, tidying up, meanwhile, Apo bows in thanks and retreats to the dressing room, tottering like a clumsy kid he is on his way back.
Mile could have left hours ago, his filming today was long over. However, he knows Apo's tonight scene is very fine and quite heavy; hence, he stays. Watching Apo shine is listed among Mile's top priorities, even if only in-between behind the scenes.
Anyway, Apo didn't drive to the set today, Mile doesn't mind taking him home. It's okay to go a bit farther, he is used to it.
When he finds Apo, he's changed into his normal clothes, the thick makeup has been wiped off. He's back to be Apo, not Khem anymore – at least until his next shot, which is in the morning.
Apo is staring into the reflection of himself in the mirror, serenity casting a layer upon him despite the bustling background. He looks deep in thought, or no thought in particular. He doesn't react when Mile goes in.
He must be lost in his world again.
"Po." Mile calls, gently so he won't disturb his friend. Apo seems to get a shiver before he glances up at him like a sleepy cat.
"P'Mile." He breathes out, a touch of tiredness in his tone, but his eyes remain bright. Mile likes how gentle his name sounds caressed in a light breeze from his friend's lips.
"Are you leaving now?" He asks, seating him on the chair beside the younger, "How will you go home?"
Apo chuckles, rubbing his eyes, seemingly so sluggish he might fall asleep right there. "I don't know, asking p'Gift for a ride maybe? She is convenient."
"Has Po eaten?" Mile is worried. If he remembers right, Apo hasn't had his dinner.
"Not yet. I'm too tired." Apo whines, head tilting back and lolling on the backrest of his chair. "What? P'Mile wants to treat me something?"
Mile can't help a smile. Apo starts to relax, prompting him to relax too, "Is Pad Thai ok?"
Apo's brows go up so high, "Phi will really treat me?"
"Of course," Mile frowns, a bit offended because he buys Apo things all the time, why is he surprised? "If not, you'll skip your meal. Your stomach has suffered enough." Mile recalls the image of Apo holding his aching stomach during his losing weight period. A wince tugs at the nerves of his face. "I will drop you off at your place after."
The younger gasps, adorably. Then, all of a sudden, he bursts out laughing, "P'Mile is the best!"
"Right." Mile is helpless before Apo's playfulness. He stands up, desperately wanting to hide his blush, patting the other's bicep, "Up. Come on. Before I change my mind."
"Nah, you won't," The familiar hehe bouncing next to his ears as Apo raises and puts his arm around Mile's shoulders, "P'Mile loves me."
The way his younger friend clings to him would make many people lose their step, but not Mile. Instead, his heart stumbles at what Apo states. Apo appears nonchalant after his throwout, so Mile swallows down his tingling feelings.
How silly.
.........
They have Pad Thai at a common diner near the filming set. A nice, cozy place with excellent cooking. They've eaten here several times since they started ManSuang.
They don't talk about anything specific, just this and that, about some scenes they like, some small animals Apo saw around the set, some trees he noticed having changed the color of their leaves, some people caught his attention. Yes, most of the conversation is about Apo being Apo, which is voluble and randomly jumping from one story to another without caring about the logic. "They said I'm weird." He admitted once, oddly timid, as if he was ready that Mile would agree with the opinion. However, Mile didn't – pretty disturbed by it on the contrary, "They don't know about you."
Not exaggerating, but listening to Apo's ramble always brings him a sense of comfort. This boy lives in his world, filled with colors and poetic vignettes, an orderly mess; the way he processes the outside world is also a wonder, tasteful, and allegorical. Mile knows Apo doesn't share this with everyone, he only opens the door for the ones who hold the right connection with him.
Luckily, Mile is one of them.
"-and she made those grabby grabby hands at me. Her chubby fingers are like little petals." The younger giggles, describing his story with his own grabby-grabby paws. Mile smiles.
"Your niece is cute."
"Of course. The cutest." Apo puffs, smug, "It's in our genes."
Mile chuckles, doesn't deny it. At that moment, a notification pops up on his phone. An email from a friend about his exhibition this weekend, he wants to invite people to come. Mile likes this person, he usually calls him P'Fuz, a music producer and a semi-professional photographer. Mile isn't too knowledgeable about photography, but he can tell the photos P'Fuz takes are superb.
Abruptly, Apo swipes at his water bottle, startling Mile into snatching it back before it can fall, before his brain can catch up with what just happened. The culprit's mouth shapes a wide O, before splitting into a sheepish grin, "...Sorry..."
Mile sighs, Apo's clumsiness is hopeless. Ever since they became friends, his reflexes have been trained to the point of perfection. "What would Po do without me?"
Answering him is a petulant pout, "No idea. Phi spoils me."
Mile wants to tut at that, but an irrelevant thought flashes in his mind, Oh, Apo may be interested in his friend's exhibition.
"Huh?" Apo blinks after he mentions the event, "When is it? I'll see a play tomorrow."
"Not tomorrow. This weekend." Says Mile, giving the latter his phone. After skimming through the email, Apo nods, "Nice! We will go together, right?"
"Yeah, I can pick you up." Something tender flutters in Mile's tummy, similar to the stumbling moment in the dressing room. It makes Mile, in a fleeting instant, want to act like or be someone spontaneous. "W-What will you see tomorrow?" He asks, just to shove the absurd feeling away.
Mile isn't sure if Apo notices his stutter, he doesn't comment anyway. "The Misunderstanding. Do you know?"
"I don't."
"It's fine," Apo shrugs, scraping the remaining of his disk, "I saw this play in New York, was quite impressed even though I didn't understand it fully." He pocks at the noodle, suddenly becomes thoughtful, "But I can feel it, I think."
This reminds Mile, sometimes it's not necessary to understand art. When people get tired of trying to explain what we need and feel, we may find it easier to give our reason a break, and let our emotions decide on their own. Art works that way, too.
That's why Mile always considers Apo a gem in this chaotic industry. His heart is sensitive and his soul is pure. He is compassionate with his feelings and always allows them to live, not being suppressed or shut down. It makes you strong, but also makes you vulnerable. Deep down, Mile knows, he always has an urge to protect that part of Apo, since God knows when.
In the end, Apo fights to pay, he pretexts that the older has to waste gas and time to drive him home. Not a waste, Mile opposes inwardly, while his friend does whatever he wants.
Their silent way home is only filled up with lyrical jazz from the radio. At one point, Mile thinks Apo has fallen asleep, but it turns out he's gazing outside. Light and shade fall across his statuesque face, giving him a meditative look. He must be sinking into his world again, or practicing mindfulness. Mile notices Apo was pretty down today, not really sad nor stressed, but in-between and somewhat different. As if, dare Mile says, Khem's scene triggered something in the younger, reminding him of some unpleasant memories and having him ponder them. The younger unwound a little when they ate, but now he needs to work this out on his own, in his own world and in his own way.
Mile understands Apo on a rather deep level, enough to know when he should stand aside. However, he still wonders what it's like to fully become a person in that world. What would it be like to be included in Apo's realm, joining both his wildness and quietude? Mile knows, he has been given lots of privileges by Apo, more than many others. Humans are greedy creatures - perhaps he's no exception.
It passes midnight when they park at the gate of Apo's apartment. Mile reaches out to undo the other's safety bell, "Does Po need a lift tomorrow?"
When Mile looks up, his eyes are greeted by a pair of owlish, glittering browns.
"What's wrong?" He straightens, brows furrow. Apo stares at him in a manner showing that he's wrestling with his thoughts. But then, he just shrinks.
"No, Phi. Nothing. Po will drive tomorrow. I have another place to go after work, remember?" His chuckle is smooth and fond, "Phi truly spoils me, P'Mile." Next, without letting Mile have time to load what he just said, the younger shifts facing him. "Can Po hug Phi?"
It's so abrupt that Mile's taken back. His heart skips a beat. Many questions should have been asked. However, that tender tone, along with Apo's determination, cast spells on his frontal lobe. The boy looks adorable, adamant like a demanding kitten, patiently waiting, who is he to decline him?
"Come here." Mile beckons, undoing his safety bell. His voice hoarse for no specific reason, making him itch to clear his throat. But when Apo leans over and wraps his arms around him, everything is blurred out.
Apo always has a higher temperature than Mile, which is strangely comfortable – since they shot KinnPorsche and had to do intimate scenes. Although he's thinner than before, the boy still fits in Mile's arms as if they're two perfect matching jigsaw puzzles. Holding his friend calms Mile in an inexplicable, irrational way. Naturally, he gathers the boy closer, nosing the crook of his neck, taking in a whiff of his warm, baby-powder aroma.
Mile hears Apo's breath hitch, then lets out a sigh. Next, the older is pulled back carefully. "Thanks, Phi." He makes out Apo's tiny mumble, but he's too off-kilter to respond. Mile almost misses the shy beam the boy grants him, as well as the blush on those tan cheeks, "Po will see you in the morning, ok?"
.........
Mile has to sit in the dark for a long time after Apo leaves. He is out of his body and floating somewhere, meanwhile his heart is on the edge of exploding. Fuck, how funny and dangerous, his heart rate is very troubled these days, whenever Apo is nearby. Same as the zing inside him every time that boy smiles at him, or acts genuinely and unbearably cute.
These emotions are both familiar and alien at the same time. Mile remembers his first crush in grade 7, a pretty classmate with beautiful eyes; he also remembers his first love in high school, a girl who had strong personality and a sunny smile. Somehow, Apo reminds him of those years and kindles an akin fire in him. That's the reason Mile keeps arguing with himself that everything whirling him around is so absurd. He's not a teenager anymore, and Apo can't be his first love – nor first crush. Not that he loves Apo anyway.
No. He does love Apo, a lot, but not that way – to be clear.
Maybe that's where the problem lies. Apo is endearing and precious, it's hard to not adore him, and Mile is just one of his victims. He can't tell how much he is protective and appreciative of the bond they share.
It's so, so damn wrong to imagine wanting his younger friend in that way.
.
Act 1.5:
The next day, Mile has just finished his night routine when he receives a message from Apo. It's a short record of the play he's seeing, in which the female character is weeping and monologuing.
"Why must innocence always be answered with the blast of injustice?" She wails.
"A life spent in waiting for the wave that would sweep me away. And now it will never come. I'll never get away. I'm stuck here forever. The wind blows off the sea. But it's blocked by the mountains." She continues, sobbing.
"I have no home." She ends, quietly. Detached.
'This part is so good,' Apo texts.
Mile doesn't get the context, but he has to praise the actress, she's young but her acting is touching. 'Yes, it is. She seems potential.'
Curiously, Mile decides to do some research. There is no Thai translation of the script, only English version, so he settles with it.
It takes Mile one week to finish reading The Misunderstanding, due to his busy schedule and the enigmatic writing. To be honest, the play's philosophy and characters bewilder him, but he's amazed by the man's wish to take care of his family - to be responsible and make them proud, by Martha's indifference and her desperate yearning to get out of her lifeless life. The record Apo sent him - Martha - makes more sense to him now.
Mile wonders if Apo has the same perception as him.
.........
On that same night, P'Fuz – the friend who will organize an exhibition this weekend - also texted him.
"Can you invite Apo?"
Mile found it a bit strange, but because he was busy digging for the play, he just replied, " What a coincidence. I invited him and he agreed."
P'Fuz thanked him, and their conversation ended there.
------------
(*) The Misunderstanding, by Albert Camus, is about a man who has been living overseas for many years returns home to find his sister and widowed mother are making a living by taking in lodgers and murdering them. Since neither his sister nor his mother recognizes him, he becomes a lodger himself without revealing his identity. The play focuses on Camus's idea of Absurdism, and his theme is "the sauveur manqué, a savior who fails because of his inability to speak a clear language to those he would save". (Wikipedia)
.........
At the end of 2023, my mood was quite bad. It was almost impossible for me to write anything decent, partly because life had been too busy, the other part - the bigger one - was because I lost my enthusiasm for writing, which upset me greatly as it's always a way I talk to myself. I posted the first chapter of this fic once but deleted it, after that my brain just... froze, I was self-conscious with my writing and thought who would care abt them, haha. I decided to disappear and reboot myself a bit, going back to creating short and healing stories in my native language - fortunately, this helped me more than I thought it would.
Anyway, I reread my draft tonight and guess what, my inspiration comes back! I decided to repost and continue this story because I still really like it. Hopefully, I will finish it before the Lunar New Year ^^
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